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How sick.
Arouse for a moment of dazzling amazement.
Resurrect couple of years later knowing this thing what they call life on this planet, which they call Earth, will be not only what they designed and named love.
Crawling through the barrage of self-discovery, discovering only limits and the unavailabilty of an escape plan. Surviving the pounding desire of self-destruction. They describe it as a normal period of your personal development. I call it, human have failed.
But you keep moving, because you start, you want to believe, you want to believe in hope, this hope everyone is designing symbols and mystical worlds around.
At this point you need to decide which side you want to be, on the believers or the loosers. In money maker or money hunters, in money lovers or why the fuck I should care abut something which is printed on paper and everyone seems to shed blood on.
And life goes on. Off and on.
And before you realise that there is nothing else than realising but loosing, you are dead. Your ego is dead. Your human is dead. Your self is dead.
And you, you finally live.
What a comedy this life is.